


Gonna Get You Real Good

by lover_of_blue_roses



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Dork Lovers Server Challenge (Queen Band), Early 70's, Gen, Light Swearing, Shenanigans, Stupidity, before being famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-09 09:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/pseuds/lover_of_blue_roses
Summary: You'd think catching a train and riding it would easy, simple and straightforward but clearly dumb bitch juice was the drink of the day. Except for poor Deaky who is doing his best and has been give three collective brain cells, I guess Brian can have the last one. Roger and Freddie have zero.





	1. catching a train isn't suppose to be literal

**Author's Note:**

> “The entire story takes place in transit: on a plane, in a car, on a bus, on a train, etc.” 
> 
> Light swearing.

There was a big scramble, a complete rush because Freddie once again had been late. He had claimed some unlikely story of his power going out which caused him some alarm from being unable to ring and for him to be unable to see with the lights. The boys were very doubtful of this story because even if Freddie had woken up early, the sun would have already risen hours before. They were pretty sure that he just slept through his alarm.

They hadn't bought the tickets the day before only because it was out of their way to swing by the train station. John regretted all his life decisions as they ran in their platforms, four bags in hand, four backpacks and one guitar case up and down the stairs to the tracks, why couldn't there be an elevator. They were never going to have time to buy and ticket and get in the train.

Roger made it clear by the daggers shooting from his eyes that if they couldn't get a ticket they were going to stowaway, there was no way they were missing that train! They were going on tour and for real this time. Unlike that time they'd decided, no label no nothing, to take a van and do every pub; or that even shitter time the Sheffields had sent them to Germany and Luxembourg to do two and half shows that hadn't been advertised for people that had never heard of them and had the audacity to boo them. No this was a real proper Queen English Tour! They couldn't miss that train!

John Harris and the other roadies had gone in the van with all their material ahead of time. Well almost all their material. Brian had clung tightly to his precious handmade guitar and no force on earth nor in heaven could separate the two. Deaky foisted off his luggage to the very determined Roger and ran to the till where a poor Italian was trying to navigate the language barrier. "Sorry, but we-" John gestured helplessly to the train that was blowing it's departing whistle, the boys were hanging out of the door and yelling for him to hurry. The befuddled man understood this much and was polite enough to let them skip the queue. No one else in the line complained either, they understood the dilemma. "Four tickets to Brighton," Deaky said slipping a tenner under the glass partition.

"Four?" The strict old man behind the booth questioned raising a pointed eyebrow. It seems he understood what was afoot but was good enough to give him the required tickets. Deaky didn't have time to wait for the teller to count back his change, yelling only 'Keep It' as he ran full speed to the train. Served Norman right for not even including the band in the planning for the tour.

The train had blown its final whistle and was slowly picking up speed as it pulled out of the station. Deaky ran towards the train. God only knows what they would do without their bassist. At least with only his pack bouncing on his back he was much less inconvenienced than if he had had his luggage.

When he was only a few feet away from the train, Brian stretched out his long arm and John was able to reach out and grasp on. He was pulled on board and they tumbled into the landing. They were on the ground but they had made it, all four of their dumbasses. There was nothing left to do but laugh in pure relief.

"Are you okay John?" / "Did you get the tickets?" Freddie and Brian made their priorities clear. Brian's voluminous hair had somehow doubled in size since their car drive here. John wasn't sure if it was the stress or the running that had made it into a giant chaotic halo. Brian yanking at it in worry probably wasn't helping.

"Yeah, yeah all good." John looked down at the four tickets in his hand and then slowly looked back up at the three of them. Theoretically it was better if they each had their own ticket but he wasn't sure that he could trust them to be responsible enough to not lose them.

Roger reached out to take one and Deaky held it tight for a moment in indecision. Roger tugged again, "Well mate?" Deacon wasn't going to call him an irresponsible idiot to his face, not today it wasn’t worth the fight. He let go of the ticket and handed out the two others. They all quite responsibly seemed to put them in their wallets or in their pockets next to their wallets.

"We should find somewhere to sit then," Freddie declared as he picked up his bags and headed into the carriages. Deaky smiled in thanks as Roger handed him his back and just lamented at the fact he hadn't brought a hair band handy to tie back his long sweaty locks, he'd at least like to get them off of his neck. Freddie felt that tied back hair on men was ghastly and had the tendency to throw out and steal any hair bands he found. He had once gone so far as use scissors to cut one out of Brian's hair when he dared to show up with a ponytail. In Freddie's defense, Brian hadn't looked very good with his hair like that. Not as bad as when he used to straighten it but bad.

They had to walk through quite a few carriages until they found one that had four empty seats facing each other. Brian, as the tallest one, was handed each piece of luggage to slide into the netting at the top. "Christ Freddie! What did you put in this? Bricks?"

"Nonsense, darling it's just clothing. I'm a rockstar, I need to look good," Freddie said as he dramatically took his coat off and sat down, primly crossing his legs. Both Freddie's luggage and his backpack were much bigger than any of the boys. If they were as jam packed as Brian suggested Fred had probably brought enough costumes to change four times each night.

Once they were all seated with all their baggage stowed but for Red Special which Brian had preferred to have under his seat where she couldn't take a tumble, Roger pulled out his cigarettes. Freddie was quick to join in. Join in on the smoking, but from his own personal stores of Silk Cuts. Roger had just as shitty tastes in cigarettes as he did in clothing. Roger already had a zippo in hand when a middle-aged lady and Brian tap placards on the wall and cleared their throats at the same time. 'This is a non-smoking carriage.' _Christ, that was eerie._ How certain were they that Brian wasn't possessed by an old man?

"Right, right, then we'll get out your hair and go find somewhere to smoke." Freddie offered getting up.

"Oh, can you go and get us something to drink? I didn't have time to get a coffee this morning because someone made us late," John said as he leaned towards Fred. He would normally go and smoke with them but he was a little tired from running and would rather not move. Maybe he could even catch a little shut eye without those two loud mouths.

"I am terribly sorry about that love." Freddie offers as apology, "I'll buy you a pastry then? We'll pass by the food carriage."

John nods and looks self-satisfied as the two boys go to leave.

"Oi! Don't leave your seat empty," Brian gestures to Roger's now empty seat, Freddie's has his coat.

Roger shucks his coat and drops it in a heap. "Is that alright mum?" Brian just shakes his head in dismay, exactly like Mrs. Taylor does.

Without further comment, the two boys are allowed to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by RD_wants_death


	2. The Shenanigans of Roger Taylor and Freddie Mercury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by waterlilyinclearwater

"God. You'd think he was paid by the railway, the way he behaves," Roger bitches as they leave the non-smoking carriage.

Freddie shrugs, "Becoming more and more common. Same thing starting to happen with some restaurants, there's talk about it happening to pubs-"

"They bloody better not!"

"The non-smoking section is always smaller and in the worst-case scenario you can go outside." Freddie tries to be reasonable.

"What a pain," bemoans the blondie with a cigarette still between his lips. Freddie can't argue with that. "Do we even know if the dinner cart is this way?"

"No clue, I just wanted to get away," Freddie starts and he can't hold back his smile. Roger looks at him like 'Yeah, no, shit,' and they both breaks out into peals of laughter. Roger is shaking so hard he can't even light his cigarette. All that adrenaline from running for the train has them feeling tipsy.

"So why were you late this morning, did you finally score with your neighbour from 3A?"

"I wish. I couldn't fall asleep last night because my neighbors were making so much noise, I swear they make the sound like cats will fucking," he complained.

Again, they dissolve into giggles. They laugh so hard they are unable to keep walking, blocking the passage way. Speaking between his uncontrollable laughter Roger says, "You'll just have to get your revenge by making some noise of your own when you get back."

"Please, no matter what I do I'll never be as bad as you."

They are laughing so hard they can't hold themselves up and fall onto the side of the seats and the poor people sitting there are left to shoo away the two bumbling loud boys.

They eventually find directions in the form of clear neat labels in the end each cart that points the way to the food cart. It's conveniently in the middle of the train so no one has to walk too far. When they arrive, the dinner cart is full of commuters eating and talking loudly. The breakfast options are vast. Every kind of bread to be toasted, every flavor of jam and jelly, eggs served in every fashion. Kippers, sausages, beans. They even have French pastries. Freddie is looking at a raisin roll with the kind of love and affection normally reserved for cute woodland animals and Deaky.

Roger is staring at the coffee and the lovely barista that makes them. He reaches into his coat pocket-  
"Shit!" He exclaims, startling the folks around them and Freddie. "I left my wallet in my coat pocket. Which I left on my seat because Brian -that fucker."

Freddie also pats down where his coat pockets would be and then checks his jean pockets. No wallet either, only a sole crown*. The two boys look at the delicious seemingly endless spread of every breakfast food imaginable. The aroma is tantalizing. They lick their lips and steal a look at one another.

It's impossible to effectively shoplift beverages like tea or coffee because they are hot and need to be carried flat. Not to mention the train has no travel cups, all food and beverages are meant to be consumed in this carriage. Thus, the spare coin that Freddie carries is spent on two cups of coffee that the boys enjoy, knowing that the bitter wankers that kicked them out aren't getting any. Roger amuses himself by breaking the sugar cubes into fractions to put in his coffee, for you see two sugars is too much but one is not enough.

There might also be some bread rolls that are easily concealed by a sleight of hand back to the table. They would totally smuggle some out for the other boys but you see, they have nowhere to hide them. No jackets where bread can be held instead or stowed in deep pockets. Once their coffee is drank and their bread eaten they're lighting up another cigarette and think of poor Deaky going without when Roger sees someone.

All of a sudden, he ducks to the side and hides his face under the tabletop. Then he slides his whole body down and out of his chair. He's sitting on the floor, pressed against Freddie's legs. "What? What? Who is it?" Freddie says as quietly as he can.

"Linda's boyfriend."

"Who is Linda?" Freddie asks with a sense of fatalism. There's no way this story ends well. A man Roger knows by face but not by name and only by relation to a girl. Roger, a grown man, is currently hiding under a table squishing Freddie’s toes.

"Oh she was this bird I hooked up with. I knew she had a boyfriend," Freddie can feel his grey hairs starting to grow. At least Brian isn't here to hear this story. "But I thought they were just casual. Besides it's her job to be faithful to her boyfriend, not mine." That's fair. "And uhh, he was less than thrilled when he found out. Had to escape by the balcony." The worst part of this story is that Freddie knows this isn't the only time Roger has escaped out a window after pissing off someone's boyfriend.

"How many floors up?" Freddie asks like the good supportive friend he is.

"Only three."

Freddie rolls his eyes as Roger can't see his face. _'Well if it's only three.'_ "Okay, now what? You tell me what he looks like, I tell you when his back is turned and we run for it?"

"That's a good plan, he looks like Sam Rodwell if someone broke his nose a lot." That's actually a fairly good description as Freddie is instantly able to find someone like that serving himself one of the precious raisin rolls.

"Okay, his back is turned should we go now?" Freddie question is answered by one blond drummer weaseling out from under the table on Fred's side. He grabs the singer's hand and they dart out in a hurried run into the next carriage. They leave it as emptied handed as when they came in.

There's the ticket collector. The good news is Deacon doesn't still have their tickets. The bad news is they left them in their coats with their wallets. They turn around instantly. There is a window between the two carriages and Linda's boyfriends seems to have vaguely recognized them as he is moving their direction. Fortunately, right next to the dinner cart is a conveniently located phonebooth, less fortunately it's really only meant to fit one. Squeezing in tight, so that every inch of them is touching, they are able to fit and close the door. It's dark, claustrophobic, stuffy and hot. "And now what?"

*pre-1990s a crown was 50 pences and not a fiver.


	3. Brian barely to the rescue and what about John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by waterlilyinclearwater

The two boys leave, clearly miffed, but John and Brian are only enforcing the policy. If they wanted to find empty seats in a smoking compartment, they shouldn't have been so late. Brian is actually quite happy and prefers being in the non-smoking carriage. Tobacco smoke is almost impossible to avoid but when possible Brian would rather it didn't seep into his skin, hair and clothing. The smell follows him enough as is. 

"What do you think are the chances they spit in our coffees?"

"You think they’re gonna bring anything back at all?" Not only might the two feel offended, they might just genuinely forget. They are always so wrapped up in each other and their shenanigans that they neglect the world around them.

Brian sighs defeatedly. The chances of getting a coffee are low but not-zero. "I guess I could sleep on the train ride but I'd really like a croissant." 

"Pretty sure the pastry offer was just for me." John says with a sassy little smirk.

"Well we all know who's Freddie's favorite. Darling sweet baby Deaky." Brian teases back.

"Me? I remember last time you did a guitar solo; Freddie literally fell at your feet. Brilliant Brian, he built his own guitar you know? And writes such lovely songs," John replies also mimicking Freddie’s manner of speech and gestures. They both start laughing softly when they hear loud gaffing from the neighboring carriage. "Wanna bet 50 pence that was our idiots?"

"Sucker’s bet," Brian says raising himself a little in his seat to see through the connecting windows. "They really have no concept of how loud they are, do they," Brian says preaching to the choir. 

The door on the other side of the carriage opens and an old lady comes in dragging a bag. The suitcase doesn't have wheels and she is struggling to inch it along. Brian, already half out of his chair, stands up to help her. "Hi, do you need help with that?"

"Oh yes, thank you young man. Where ever you find some free place," She says patting his hand.

The luggage nets are quite full, not helped by the four boys’ eight bags. He has to go some distance to find a place for it. Leaving his seat empty however proves to be a mistake. The little old lady sits herself down and is now chatting John's ear off. "Err," Brian says, but as he refuses to be impolite, opting to sit on Roger’s coat rather than telling her. It's lumpy and uncomfortable but Brian is on the balls of his feet ready to stand up and retake his rightful seat.

Terrifyingly the woman talks without pausing and reaches into her purse. What they both dread is what happens. She pulls out a foldable picture frame of her family and it is a big family, lots of children, lots of grandchildren. She starts off explaining how Julia, one of her daughters, ruined her good looks by marrying an 'ugly' Jewish man and now they have 'ugly' Jewish babies. 'Ugly' is this case is just racism that her blue eyed, strawberry blonde child married a dark eyed, black haired man and thus due to the dominances of traits have dark eyed, black haired children.

Neither Brian nor John could imagine having their love for their children (or grandchildren) dampened by the way they look. They're sure they would love their children no matter what. It makes them both deeply uncomfortable but they are also too trapped by social niceties to say that she is silly and racist to her face. So, as this lady, 'call me Meriam dears', regales them with the story of how her 'good boy' got caught graffitiing and defacing a statue, the two boys hope and pray that Freddie and Roger come back soon to save them.

But those two don't seem to be returning anytime soon and they are trapped there having to nod and fake sympathies for some quite unlikable people. Brian gets so tense sitting at the edge of the seat with his legs all clenched as though he might stand at any moment. She does eventually notice this, "Can't imagine you have anywhere to go urgently on a train. Unless it's to the water closet? There's one back there," She points to where she came from. As much as Brian would like a reprieve, if it's just in the carriage behind that won't be long enough, he shakes his head. "Leave the stove on or forgot to call your mother?"

"I-oh!" Brian has only been anxious to get back to his seat and make her go away but he had actually forgotten to call his mother. He had promised her and then it had completely slipped his mind with the crazy rush this morning. Maybe he shouldn't be so harsh on Roger and Freddie for being forgetful when he is constantly misplacing his keys and forgetting to call his mother. "Yes actually. I was supposed to call her from the station."

"Better late than never," Meriem says as John shoots daggers with his eyes. His message is clear: Don't you dare leave me here. Unfortunately for the bassist, it's every man for themselves. Brian stands up from Roger's lumpy coat and pats his pockets. He has his coat and wallet on him which was the reason his seat was empty and the old lady had taken it. He checks if he’s got enough coins and doesn't need to bum some from Deacon. 

Before he can start on his way, the ticket collector arrives with his hole punch. Brian, John and the old lady all dutifully pull out their tickets. Deacon watches with a screwed up face the ticket collector leaving. "What are the chances Roger and Fred forgot their tickets?"

Brian looks down at Roger's lumpy coat. He pats the lump until he emerges with a wallet and finds the needed train ticket inside. John also holds aloft Freddie's. "What are the chances they bought breakfast without their wallet or any money?" Brian grumbles. "I should best get it to them," Brian continues, adding the two boys’ tickets to his wallet and ambling away from the old lady, leaving John trapped to watch over their bags.

Brian easily catches up to the ticket collector and asks him the direction to the dinner cart and is happy to hear the boys had at least gone in the right direction. However when he arrives there, he can't find them. If they couldn't bum from somebody some lunch money, shouldn't they have just headed back? A train, by definition, only has one path back and forth so he isn't sure where they could possibly be. Would they have some reason to go further? Every carriage but the one that they are seated in smoking is allowed so Brian can't imagine why. 

He does decide to buy himself a croissant and coffee while he waits to see if they will turn up. After he is done with his meager breakfast, he buys a spare croissant for Deacon that he squirrels away in a napkin. He would have bought him a coffee but they don't have traveling cups.

Once his breakfast is eaten and drunk, he has lingered in the dinner carriage long enough. Those boys are sure to eventually turn up like a bad penny. He slowly walks back the way he came, passing the phone booths. He had almost forgotten. The phonebooth are the kind that close, providing some privacy and also hopefully some sound insulation to actually be heard over the clatter of the tracks. There are two phone booths right next to each other and the one on the left has an 'Out of Order' sign. 

He opens the right one to see two people entangled in each other. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry." Brian blushes, apologizes and backs up. He's heard of the mile-high club for those that do it on a plane but this is bewildering. A train? What could the appeal possibly be? Or could it be that much like a laundry machine, trains vibrations are pleasant. 

The couple breaks apart and the blonde girl turns out to be Roger Meddows Taylor himself. Brian thinks to himself in surprise that it really didn't take Queen's playboy long to find himself a bird and that it answers where he is. Only the brunette of the couple turns out to be Freddie.

Brian can feel the tips of his ears turning red. Oh my god. He did not know about that. Obviously, they had always been close friends and had known each other well from working together at Kensington Market but Brian had no idea. "I'm so sorry. I- I didn't know but I won't tell John, I just - he wouldn't think differe-" Brian scrambles out words incomprehensibly.

"Bri!" Freddie exclaims jumping out and hugging him. Brian is very confused and a little uncomfortable looking at his two band mates all disheveled. Freddie whispers into his ear, "Did you bring our tickets? The collector is right there."

"What. Oh yeah," He juggles John's croissant as he fishes his wallet out of his coat pocket and removes their two unpunched tickets.

"Thank you so much dear." "Thanks mate," They slap him on the back and leave back in the direction of their seats.

Brian is still very confused but he still owes his mother a ring. He sets down John's croissant and empties out his wallet's coins onto his hand. He picks up the phone and hears the tone dial. He lifts his hand to dial in her number but at the first turn of the dial, the whole phone casing comes crashing down. He looks up guiltily to meet the angry stares of the disrupted passengers and the running backs of his band mates. The phone booth has disconnected from the wall and exposed wires lie tangled between the two. What the hell did his band mates get up to in here?

Seeing how now neither phone booths are working, he’ll have to call his mother when they arrive. Hopefully she won't be too worried. He slowly makes his way back to his seat.

The three boys are there and no old lady in sight. Deaky looks a little peeved at Brian. "The two boys were telling me about what they ate in the dinner carriage and the coffee they drank."

"Oh yeah, I had a croissant, I bro-" Brian stands there staring at his empty hand as though the croissant will reappear.

"Did you phone your mother?" The bassist looks like he's going to step on him. 

"No, there was a problem with the phones," Brian turned to stare, "Someone broke them." He returns with a kinder stare at John, "And unfortunately it ate your croissant." Brian isn't sure where the pastry fell to but it can't be anywhere good.

"We will be there soon though," Freddie said as though this was the bright side. What that really meant was it was likely the food carriage would refuse service now. Can't have delicate porcelain full of scalding liquid about if the train was gonna be stopping.

And that is the story of how lovely, darling John Deacon, that had run fast enough to get their arses tickets, and had in no way been responsible for them being late, was deprived of breakfast.


End file.
